Funeral for a Trench Coat
by siobhansgrant
Summary: It was all there had been left of Castiel. And for some reason, that pissed Dean off. Coda to 7x02. Not Destiel.


Summary: It was all there had been left of Castiel. And for some reason, that pissed Dean off. Coda to 7.02. Not Destiel.

Spoilers: Up to 7.02

Word Count: 693

Rated: T, because Dean has a mouth that not even a rinse with bleach could clean out.

Author's Notes: 7.02 broke me. Gamble, Kripke, you can't do that to Cas and Bobby. Not without giving me a lot of manly crying and bro-hugging, at least. This pile of angst is my solution to the episode. Takes place after the scene by the reservoir.

* * *

><p>Sam and Bobby had wanted to just burn the coat. Castiel was gone, and he wasn't coming back. The Leviathan had torn his vessel apart, and had claimed to have killed Cas, too. Why keep the damned thing? What were they going to do with it?<p>

Dean wouldn't let them.

Cas had been a crazy son of bitch, yeah, but in the end, he'd done a hell of a lot for them. He'd pulled Dean out of Hell, and had brought most of Sam out of the Cage. He'd given up his own family and the only home he'd ever known for them. He'd died two times, willingly, for their cause.

Besides, Cas might still come back. He'd done it before. And if he did come back, he'd probably want the stupid trench coat that he'd never before taken off. Not even that hooker—hadn't her name been Chastity?—had been able to get it off him.

So Dean buried the coat in an old wooden crate under a tree in Bobby's yard, in an odd mockery of a funeral.

As Dean threw the second-to-last shovelful of dirt over the coat, he let go of the shovel, staring at the crate.

"You stupid feathery bastard. You couldn't just let it go, could you? You couldn't just say it wasn't your job and walk away." He looked up at the sky, as if expecting an answer from the rain clouds that hung overhead.

"You can't save the world on your own, dumbass. You wanted help with your war, you could have asked. You knew it. Dammit, Cas, I would have helped you!

"You knew I would have helped you! You knew I would have left that shithole of a life for you! You're not a fucking _hero_, Cas, you can't save everyone on your own!

"And now? Now you're fucking _dead_, Cas, and why? Because you're a stubborn fucking _child_, and you wouldn't fucking _listen_! Because you tried to fucking save everybody! Dammit!

"You know how many people you killed trying to save everyone? _Hundreds_, Cas. More than that, probably. You were never _God_, you were a stupid fucking _angel_, and this was never about Raphael or a war, this was about _you_. This was about you being right and being chosen by God!

"Newsflash, Cas, when your dad hasn't been home in a while, you're supposed to fucking _deal_ with it, not do something crazy like that! You're supposed to be _angry_, dammit, break something or beat the shit out of some guy in a fight or smite something or kick the shit out of a car, but you don't fucking try to become _God_! And then you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, you fucking _child_!

"And now you're fucking dead and who the hell knows what happened to your vessel and now I'm burying your stupid fucking trench coat and you know _what_, Cas? _Fuck you_, you stupid son of a bitch. Fuck your war and fuck Lucifer and fuck Purgatory and fuck the fucking Leviathan. I don't have time for this shit.

"And now I have to bury your fucking trench coat, because it's _all that's fucking left of you_! You were more than a _brother_ to me, Cas! You saved my fucking _life_! I fucking loved you as much as I love Sammy, and this is what you do? You fucking _die_? You fucking leave me to bury your stupid fucking _trench coat_? _Dammit, Cas!_"

Dean hadn't even been aware how loudly he'd been shouting until Bobby stuck his head out the back door. "You okay, boy?" the older hunter asked, clearly worried.

Dean swallowed hard, forcing up a smile. "Yeah," he answered, hoping that the lie wasn't as obvious as it seemed.

But it seemed to satisfy Bobby, who closed the door with a slam, letting Dean know in his typical cryptic Bobby way that he was going to let Dean have all the space and time he needed.

And looking at the half-buried wooden crate, Dean decided he was going to need a little bit longer.

It wasn't like the trench coat was going to raise a protest.


End file.
